


Reste Avec Moi

by cheshireArcher



Category: 15th Century RPF, Henry V - Shakespeare
Genre: Battle of Agincourt, Before Battle, France - Freeform, Knights - Freeform, M/M, heart-to-hearts over campfires, pre-battle worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/pseuds/cheshireArcher
Summary: From a tumblr prompt: "Just stay with me, Constable/Orléans." A few nights before the Battle of Agincourt, two men look at what's at stake.Note: This has been edited since originally posted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Contains one brief instance of profanity near the beginning.
> 
> This is the first time I've written for this pairing! If people like it, I'll write more. Also, this is my 100th story!

It was a few nights before what would eventually be known as the Battle of Agincourt. The Constable and the Duke of Orléans had decided to escape the Dauphin’s circle and have some peace and quiet. The Dauphin was especially insufferable, acting like he was a battle-hardened veteran rather than a privileged daddy’s boy that had never fought. He seemed to be even worse as engagement with the English neared, probably because he wanted to show that he was every bit as good as King Henry.

That was all behind them, literally, since the two had left the main camp and made a fire elsewhere. They sat and talked, trying to avoid the mud as much as possible.

“I think we don’t have the advantage,” Orléans said.

“Well, we don’t have the high ground,” The Constable replied, warming his hands. He looked up to see the light from the fire flickering on the face of his… friend? Companion? No, neither word fit.

“We have vastly superior numbers though,” Orléans sounding more optimistic all of a sudden.

 _That’s my boy,_ The Constable thought, affectionately.

“And you'll be fine, you have the best armor,” Orléans added, grinning. His face fell, obviously thinking about what was to come. “What do you suppose will happen if we don’t win here?”

“I think that if we meet the English here,” the Constable began, “this will be the deciding battle.” He sighed and poked the fire with a stick. “If Henry wins, the Dauphin will lose his claim to the throne.”

“The Dauphin’s a poncey piece of shit, but he still has more right than Henry.”

“Language, Orléans,” the Constable scolded, obviously agreeing. They both laughed. The Constable was second only to the king, Charles VI and was fiercely loyal to him, even if he didn’t like the layabout Dauphin either. “You sound worried,” he said, sobering.

“Do I?” Orléans asked. “I’m not scared."

The Constable considered that for a moment. “I didn’t say scared,” he replied.

“I am worried,” Orléans admitted. He got up and moved closer to the Constable. “You’re right. Everything hinges on this battle. And-” he choked. “And I don’t want to see France lose. If he wins, Henry will get everything- the throne, Princess Katherine will be his and that will make his claim even more valid, England will have all of France. I don’t want to see that happen.” He hung his head. “Not after all we’ve fought for.”

Like the Dauphin, the Constable and Orléans were nobles. However, the Constable was a soldier and Orléans was desperately fighting against the scheming Burgundy. They’d served the king well and were fiercely loyal to the fleur de lis.

They were also loyal to each other.

“We fight,” the Constable said. “We fight like men, we defend our kingdom and know it’s in God’s hand what happens.” He put his finger under Orléans’ chin and made him look up. It worried the Constable to see Orléans in such a state.

“I just worry for France,” Orléans said, as if he could read the Constable's mind. “I’m not worried about myself.”

“Good,” the Constable said, playfully shoving him. “Otherwise I’d say you’re going soft in your old age.”

“Shut up, I’m not THAT old,” but Orléans pounced on the Constable, putting his arms around the other man and his head on his shoulder. “I love you, Charles,” he said.

The Constable, overtaken by one of his rarely-experienced mushy feelings, stroked Orléans' hair. “I love you too, Charles.” He smiled. They were sworn comrades in war and in life, a relationship forged in fighting together. Neither liked admitting to things like love since neither wanted to feel vulnerable, but sometimes the loyalty won out and they felt safe with the other.

“Just stay with me,” Orléans mumbled, “just stay with me.”

“I will,” the Constable said, sitting up. “Just stay with me too.”

“I will,” Orléans echoed.

They stayed together in their makeshift camp all night, under the stars and warmed by the smoldering embers and each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical note: I've changed their ages so they're closer in age. Historically, the Constable was much older than Orléans. But who cares, if Shakespeare can bend fact so can I. And yes, historically they were both named Charles.


End file.
